


Memories

by Fatally_Procrastinating



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Children, F/M, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Memory Loss, Mild Smut, Romance, Second Chances, all the feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-03-18 00:44:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3549776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fatally_Procrastinating/pseuds/Fatally_Procrastinating
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The heavy price of Lyrium finally caught up with Cullen as his life since Kirkwall has been reduced to a haze. Unable to remember his wife or child, he finds himself dumbstruck in the presence of the beautiful Elysse Trevelyan. Struggling to come to terms with her husband's condition, will Elysse make their relationship work as it is, or will she sever ties with the Commander for good?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We've met before

Cullen smiled at the child’s laughter. Golden curls bounced as a young girl, no more than six, skipped across the grass. Her yellow dress swished with her movements, creating an illusion of dancing light. 

He sat forward on his bed in the infirmary, neck craning as he tried to follow the girl’s movements across the courtyard outside. A dark-haired woman with a face as sharp as the sword she wore on her hip had set him in here earlier with strict instructions for him to remain in place. The pulsing pain behind his eyes had compelled him to obey. 

Cullen almost pouted when the girl disappeared from sight, feeling chilled as though the sun itself had disappeared with her. The giggling continued to echo through the halls. Cullen sat back with a sigh, resigned to his place in bed when large green eyes poked around the edge of the door. 

“Hello there,” Cullen waved to the girl. 

She returned the gesture with a clenched fist and a sheepish smile. 

“Do you have something in your hand?” 

She nodded. 

Cullen grinned as she crept across the stone floor. She glanced around even though the room was empty, her head bobbing around like an owl. When she reached the side of his bed, she leaned in and whispered, “Can you keep it a secret?” 

“Of course I can.” He paused. “But don’t you think your parents are worried about you?” 

“They know where I am.” 

“Do they really?” 

“One does,” she said with a defiant pout. 

Cullen grinned at the dimples that formed in her cheeks. He swung his legs over the side and patted the empty space he’d made. Should he call for someone? Surely, this girl’s parents were worried after her. When she hopped onto the bed, he studied her dress: fine silks, finer embroidery. Mostly likely the child of a noble. But where had she come from? He hadn’t seen anyone of such wealth. There was the woman who had brought him here and… and someone. He remembered… 

The pain in his head burned until he had to press his hands against the sides of his face to make sure he was still in one piece. 

“A-are you all right?” the child asked. 

“Yes.” He forced a smile as he focused on her face. She was far too young to wear such frowns. “I promise. In fact, I’m a lot better now that you’re here.” 

She giggled, legs swinging back and forth. 

At least _someone_ here liked him. “What was this secret of yours?” 

The girl scooted close enough so that her shoulder brushed his arm. Almost jabbing her fist into his face, she loosened her grip to reveal a small, smashed pastry. A Fereldan sweet made mostly out of eggs and sugar—his favorite. 

“I stole it from the kitchen.” 

“Oh, my. Pastry theft is a  _serious_ crime, young lady.” He winked and she broke into another round of giggles. 

“We can share it,” she offered. 

“That’s very kind of you, but—”

“ _Myra?_ ” The cry echoed from the courtyard. 

The blonde girl gasped before scrambling to her kneels. She crawled around the bed, hiding herself behind Cullen’s back. Small fists balled up into his shirt, her breath warm and ticklish through the fabric. The pastry lay abandoned on the bed. 

“Myra, are you—oh.” 

A woman stopped inside the door and Cullen’s jaw fell. Red hair fell in loose curls around her shoulders. Her green eyes—the same bright shade as the child’s—were animated by the flush in her cheeks. The inherent softness in her face was offset by a scar that cut across her right eye. Cullen swallowed hard, a sudden tightness enveloping his chest. Her lips were lush and red. As he stared, he imagined cupping her face to bring her in for a sensuous kiss that would make her spine tingle and her knees weak. 

“I, um.” He cleared his throat and straightened his posture. “H-hello.” 

Her smile was tentative. “Hello.” 

Cullen flushed as his heart raced. “I assume you’re looking for the little girl.” 

A hissed  _no_ came from behind him. 

“Myra, is that you?” 

His eyes followed the woman’s every move as she marched into the room.  _Maker’s breath_ : the way she moved was divine. Precision and power in every step. He recognized the kind of dedication and training it took to earn that level of grace. His gaze skimmed over the subtle curves of her body, admiring her control among her many other fine features. His gaze lingered on her hand and he felt his heart drop at the glint of gold on her finger. _Not_ single, then. 

“You knowyou’re not supposed to come down here.” 

“But mommy,” Myra protested. “I didn’t break any of the rules!” 

The woman shot Cullen a glance and her smile turned apologetic. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you… ser.” 

“She was no bother.” Cullen moved closer, wanting to make the moment last. Warmth spread across his cheeks when she looked at him. “It was nice to have a visitor.” Especially such a lovely one. 

Myra tugged on the woman’s coat. “Please? Please can I stay just this once? I promise I’ll be good!” 

“I…” 

“You can both stay if you like.” His blush burned on the tips of his ears and down his neck. “I mean, I have nothing better to do, and I would love to talk to someone for a while. I-if that’s all right with you, of course.” 

She bit her lip as she stared at him, her arms wrapped tight around her daughter. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Her head shook and Cullen would’ve sworn he saw tears when she looked at him again. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.” 

“Oh, I—I see.” He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to hide his disappointment. “I understand. But please,” he rose to his feet, ignoring the ache in his head. “Please, before you go, might I at least know your name?” 

Cullen wondered if the quiver to her chin was a trick of the candlelight when she answered, “Trevelyan. Elysse Trevelyan.” 


	2. A second encounter

“I told you not to go down there.” Elysse perched on the edge of her bed with Myra at her side, her face buried in her hands. “I’ve told you a dozen times now that you’re not allowed to go visit daddy like that.”

Myra’s cheeks were red when she puffed them out in an indignant huff. Her legs kicked back and forth in the air and her arms crossed over her chest in a way that would’ve looked intimidating on anyone else.

Elysse turned to her daughter. “You understand that he can’t remember you, right? Or when he does, that he’s only going to forget again?”

“I don’t care,” Myra said stubbornly despite the quiver in her voice and the tears forming in her eyes. “I just wanted to spend some time with him.”

Elysse sighed as she pulled her daughter close against her chest. “I know, sweetie.” She tucked Myra close, rubbing the girl’s back when she began to sob. “I miss him too. But we can’t… _I_ can’t go down there anymore. I can’t…” She couldn’t look into Cullen’s eyes and see a stranger staring back at her, she couldn’t sit at his side and smile while every part of her screamed to pull him in for a searing kiss, desperate to feel him touch her again, to have him _recognize_ her again. “ _I can’t do it_.”

“I—” Myra’s voice broke as she forced back her tears. “I’m still going to see him!”

“You are, are you?”

Myra nodded once, her green eyes almost angry as Elysse brushed the tears off the little girl’s cheeks. “I am! And I’m going to bring a whole plate of sweets next time. And I don’t care if he knows who I am or not!”

Elysse almost laughed even as her heart began to ache. Myra had inherited her father’s stubbornness and then some. “All right,” she said. “But at least make sure Aunt Cass is there when you visit him.” The last thing Myra needed was seeing Cullen when one of his withdrawal episodes hit him.

“I can really go?”

“…yes.”

Myra peeked up, her eyes transitioning into a puppy-dog state more quickly than should’ve been possible. “Will you come with me, mommy?”

“No.”

“Pleaaaaaaaaaaaaaase?” Myra begged. She hopped down off the bed and latched onto Elysse’s hand even as she began to jump up and down. “Please? Please? Please? Just this once and I won’t ask again.”

“Myra, I—”

“He looked _so_ happy to see you, though. I bet he’d be even happier if you came back.”

“ _Myra_.”

She kept her eyes wide, full of deceptive innocence. “Just this once?”

Elysse chewed her lip for a moment as her daughter continued to tug on her hand. Of course she wanted to see Cullen. She wanted to feel his arms around her, taste his lips, hear her name fall from his tongue in a sigh. Maker, she missed him. She _missed_ her husband to the point of pain. Sleeping in an empty bed, his scent fading from the sheets a little more each day—she’d lost track of how many times she’d fallen asleep weeping for him, _aching_ to feel his arms and hear his voice comforting her like he had on so many nights before.

Elysse cleared her throat as she squeezed Myra’s hand. She took a steadying breath, her stomach tingling with butterflies as she said, “Just this once.”

 

* * *

 

 

Cullen frowned at Cassandra as she pressed her fingers to his wrist before scratching out something on a clipboard.

“Am I going to live?” he asked.

“For now.” She pressed him back into bed with a firm hand. Her touch was softer when she felt his forehead. “I am told you had a visitor today.”

“Two, actually.” Cullen coughed when she told him to before continuing, “A young girl and her mother.”

The woman stopped partway through her routine to stare at him. “The _Inquisitor_ visited you?”

“Inquisitor? When did you and Leliana decide on an Inquisitor without me?”

“Lady Trevelyan has proved herself capable, Cullen. You would’ve approved had you been well.”

“ _Lady_ Trevelyan?” Cullen relaxed back into his pillows. A comfortable warmth spread through his chest as he thought of his brief exchange with Elysse. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking of her since. Would her hair feel like silk between his fingers? Did she snore or talk in her sleep? Would she cling to him if he dared kiss her?

Cullen glanced up and flushed when he caught Cassandra staring at him. “ _What?_ ”

“Nothing,” she said through a strained smile. “I simply didn’t think… it’s nothing of importance.” She cut off the sentence with an absent wave of her hand.

“About this Inquisitor,” he said after a silent moment, “I noticed she wore a wedding band.”

Cassandra stiffened, bent halfway towards the small stash of poultices he kept around for his headaches.

“Her husband, is he… still alive?”

“It isn’t my place to speak of such matters.”

“It’s a yes or no question. Hardly something that would be kept secret.”

“Elysse was devoted to her husband in a way that most people will only dream about.”

“Was?” The barest twinge of guilt tugged at the back of his mind as he hoped that she was a widow, that he might have some slim chance of claiming a piece of her heart.

“It isn’t my place,” Cassandra repeated. She placed a poultice on his forehead, her lips pursed hard enough to drain the color from them.

“You’re no fun,” Cullen muttered under his breath as he settled back down. His head pounded and he wondered if he’d ever be over recover from the sea voyage from Kirkwall. It felt like it’d been months since he walked out in the sun.

“How is he doing?”

Cullen’s neck snapped to the side. He inched to the edge of the infirmary bed, peering around Cassandra to where Elysse and Myra stood at the door. He grinned when the girl caught his eye, her face lighting up as she pressed her way around the warrior’s legs. Pastries and sweet cakes and sticky buns bounced dangerously on an overloaded tray as she skipped her way to his bedside.

“Welcome back,” Cullen fought back a wince as he sat up. His body ached with a dull thudding pain. He smacked his lips together, wishing Cassandra would give him some lyrium to slake his thirst. Her continued denial was starting to become downright cruel.

“This one is for you,” Myra said, picking up one of the Ferelden pastries and plopping it down on his lap.

“And the rest are for you, I suppose?”

“Mommy too.”

Cullen glanced up at the woman, straining his ears to try and catch parts of the conversation between her and Cassandra. “Is your mother joining us?”

Myra mumbled a garbled _yes!_ through rounded-cheeks stuffed with sweets.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Elysse said, walking over to the cots.

“No!” Cullen snapped to his feet, cursing when his pastry smacked onto the floor in a squish of custard. He flushed and wondered what he was supposed to do with his arms. Fold them over his chest? Keep them at his sides? One of each? “Not at all. I’m glad you decided to stop by. It’s nice to see you again.”

Her eyes widened and, for a moment, Cullen feared he’d said the wrong thing.

“Again?” she asked.

“After this morning, you left so quickly that we missed the chance to talk.”

“Yes. Yes, of course.” She sat down on the bed opposite his, her hands tucked tightly into her lap. “This morning.”

Cullen cleared his throat. “Cassandra informed me that you’ve been chosen as Inquisitor.”

“That’s right.”

“Then I fear I have you at a disadvantage, I’m—”

“Ser Cullen Stanton Rutherford of Honnleath,” she said with a smile. “Commander of the Inquisition’s forces.”

Cullen stared at her a moment before chuckling under his breath. “That’s just not fair. You seem to know all about me and I barely even know your name, _Inquisitor._ We’ll have to try and even things out a little before the day is through.”

Elysse’s smile tightened around the edges. Her lip quivered for a brief moment and he wanted to kick himself. What if she were fresh in mourning? What if her husband was lost in some battle?

“Forgive me, Inquisitor,” he rushed out, “I didn’t mean to, uh…” What could he say? _I didn’t mean to flirt with you so overtly, I’ll try to be more subtle next time._ That would be an _excellent_ thing to say, especially in front of her daughter.  “Forgive me.”

“You’re fine, Cullen. But please, call me Elysse.”

“Elysse.” He rolled her name across her tongue as he said it, savoring the sound. It felt _right_ , like he’d said it a thousand times before, like he was _meant_ to say it. Cullen caught her eye. Her cheeks were flushed and her fingers were digging into the side of the cot as she stared at him. He’d never seen a person’s eyes so focused before—as though nothing in the world existed apart from him.

She broke the connection with a light cough. “Everyone else already calls me that anyway.”

“I see,” he said.

Moments passed in the soft crunching of Myra working her way through the plate she’d brought in. Questions burned on Cullen’s tongue. _Is your husband alive? Do you still love him? Does he appreciate you? Does he love you as you deserve? May I kiss you?_

Cullen turned away before the urge grew too great, focusing instead on the child beside him. She seemed at ease—her body half-draped over one of his knees, hair spilling out onto his lap. He reached out to brush it back from her face, already imagining what it would look like up in a braid with blue ribbons. He caught himself halfway through, eyes widening at his own audacity.

“I’m sorry!” he turned to Elysse, expecting concern or rage at his bold familiarity with her child. Her eyes held only sadness.

“Please don’t apologize,” she murmured. “I know you’d never harm her.”

“So much faith in me already?” he asked, trying to keep the conversation light, to draw the smile back onto the lips he so desperately wanted to kiss.

“Call it instinct. That, and the fact that Cassandra has nothing but praise for you.”

“Cassandra?” he asked in a laugh. “Praise for _me_? She only fished me out of Kirkwall a few months ago.”

“She only picked you because she believed in your abilities.”

He gave her a wry smile. “Abilities I’m currently failing you at, I’m afraid. I miss the Inquisitor being named. I’ve been stuck in here since I arrived. Not a very promising start, is it?”

“It’s better than you realize.”

Cullen began to ask her what she meant when Myra yawned and snuggled up against his side. Her small hands lifted up his arm, wrapping it around her as she shut her eyes.

“I’ll take her upstairs,” Elysse said, rising to her feet.

“Wait. I really don’t mind.” He reached out to intercept her hand. Their fingers brushed and he froze in place, not daring to break the contact. Elysse’s eyes met his and his mouth went dry. It seemed almost unfair that her skin would be this soft. He wanted to squeeze her hand and twine their fingers as lovers would.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, the words little more than a whisper.

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m not.”

Elysse swallowed hard, her cheeks turning a fetching pink as she finally pulled her hand away. “I should really take Myra upstairs,” Elyssa repeated. “She always crashes after she’s had so much sugar. I doubt you’d want her drooling all over your shirt.”

Cullen held in his protest as she gathered Myra into her arms. He stood when she did, walking alongside her to the door of the infirmary—the door he’d been warned not to step outside of. His gut twisted in knots, his hands all but shaking as he said, “I hope that you’ll come back again.”

“I—I don’t know.”

“Please?” Cullen moved in closer. It would be so easy to draw her in. To hold both of them against his chest as he pressed his lips to Elysse’s forehead, his hand on the small of her back. His fingers twitched as he fought the urge. “We’ll be seeing a lot of each other from now on. It’s only right that we get to know one another better.”

“Is that what you want, Cullen? For us to _know each other better_?”

He blinked as his blush spread down his neck. Maker, the _way_ she said it made him picture nights filled with his lips mapping out the contours of her body, her fingers marking up his back as he claimed her in long, languid kisses interrupted only by moans of his name.

Cullen let out a slow, deep breath as he tried to blink the image from his mind. This wasn’t like him, not like him at all. She was married and had a child and had a life of her own and was the _Inquisitor_ of all things. And yet…

“I do want that,” he confessed.

Elysse considered him for a moment, her gaze measuring him in silence. Finally, she answered, “We’ll see how you feel about it tomorrow and go from there.”

Cullen’s cheeks ached with his grin when she turned and walked away. Tomorrow. She’d return tomorrow. He almost giggled at the thought as he fell back onto his cot, his headache long forgotten. Reaching across the aisle, he snatched up the pillow and held it close. Lingering traces of jasmine and vanilla and soap invaded his senses as he breathed in deep. He tucked the pillow beneath his chin, feeling a heady lightness he hasn’t experienced in years.

Elysse Rutherford didn’t sound half bad. 


	3. Why do I know you?

“Do you think this is wise?”

Elysse blew a strand of hair away from her face as she busied herself with the pot before her.

“Elysse!”

“I’ve made my decision, Cassandra.” Elysse kept her eyes fixed on the stew as she ladled out two servings’ worth into a pair of bowls. She walked around the Seeker, grabbing a handful of rolls and an apple before setting everything onto a tray.

“But is it the right one?”

Elysse turned, her breath leaving like a hiss through clenched teeth. “What do you want me to say, Cassandra? He’s _remembering_ me. Tonight, it’ll be three days since he’s held onto what’s happening around him.”

“A feat he has accomplished before,” Cassandra reminded her. “And as before, he will forget you again and this cycle you’ve trapped yourself in will start anew.”

“You don’t know that! The healers are still working on a few theories. It’s still possible that he’s starting to stabilize.”

Cassandra’s eyes filled with pity as she asked, “Is that what you truly believe?”

“I… I don’t know.” Elysse busied her hands with the food, arranging and rearranging everything. She wanted it to be true. Maker, she would’ve given anything for Cullen to be as he was again. To see the recognition and love in his eyes again as he scooped Myra into his arms and swung her about as she shrieked in delight. To wake up to his snoring and kiss him into the new day. To hold him through the nightmares and be held when her own dreams grew too dark.

“What I _do_ know,” Elysse said, “is that I can’t go back to my room when he’s waiting for me. If I don’t do this now—if I wait until tomorrow—this chance might never come again. _Three days_ , Cassandra. It’s been months since he’s remembered me for this long. Even if it’s just as the Inquisitor, or as Myra’s mother, or even as a stranger, he’s still _remembering_ me. I can’t walk away from that.”

“It’ll hurt more all that much more when his memory fades again.”

Elysse’s shoulders fell. “I know.” She picked up the tray, gripping it tight when her fingers began to shake. “But at least I’ll have these moments with him to hold onto.”

She marched past Cassandra before the woman could make another protest, taking the backdoor out of into the courtyard. The sun was already starting to settle in the west, making long shadows of her legs as she strode across the stone and up the stairs again towards the infirmary. Her stomach tensed as she approached the door, her feet slowing. What if he’d forgotten already? What if she opened the door and he looked up at her only to ask who she was?

A low whine escaped her throat as she shifted the tray into one arm and rested her hand flat against the wood.

 _Just knock_ , she told herself. _You’ll always wonder if you don’t._

She tightened her grip on the wood, bracing herself for the inevitable, when the door gave way beneath her palm. Elysse stumbled, the food jostling on the tray, before a pair of hands steadied her shoulders. She stared up into a pair of golden eyes and held her breath.

“You came.” Cullen couldn’t help but grin as he stared at her. “I was starting to think you’d…” He shook his head, mumbling _never mind_ as he ushered her into the room. He was grateful Cassandra had departed early that night, though still wished she’d brought him a new set of books. It felt like he’d been reading the same five novels over and over again.

“You brought supper?” he asked, clearing off the nearby table before pulling out one of the chairs for her.

“Ferelden stew,” she said, “I thought you might appreciate the change since Cassandra’s been feeding you mostly soup and vegetables.”

He breathed the aroma in deep—the rich blend of potatoes and venison in a spiced broth that could make spirits weep. He smiled when he caught a whiff of the soap she used. The scent relaxed him, like that of fresh baked bread—it was home, somehow. “It smells delicious. Thank you, Elysse.”

Her cheeks darkened at the use of her name and Cullen rested his chin in one of his hands, the grin still plastered on his face. He probably looked like a fool, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Cassandra had warned against hoping for anything between them, but that hadn’t stopped him from pacing through the room and checking the window at every shadow that had passed by. It hadn’t stopped him from daydreaming about her going about her day and wondering if she’d spared a thought for him.

Elysse tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear, biting her lip for a brief moment before relaxing into the seat. “I thought you’d like it. It was always—” She paused then cleared her throat. “It was always my husband’s favorite meal.”

“Then he has good taste in food as well as women.” Cullen blanched, his hand stretched out halfway towards a roll. Why did he keep saying things like that? The banter came so naturally to him in her presence: the desire to tease and flirt and make her smile. “I am _so_ sorry, Inquisitor. That was a foolish thing to say, I—”

“It’s all right, Cullen.”

“No, it’s not.” He shifted to touch her hand but stopped short, fighting the instinct to comfort her. He took up his spoon instead, focusing on the stew. “You’re obviously upset. I feel like I’m always saying the wrong thing around you. It’s a wonder that you keep coming back for more.”

Her lips twitched in a hesitant smile before she said, “It must be your Ferelden charm that attracts me so much.”

Cullen choked, his stutter turning into a cough that shook the table with its force. She held out a cup, all smiles and patience as he pounded a fist against his chest before taking the proffered glass. He stared at her a moment, his chest tightening and relaxing at the same time. He expected his heart to flutter and skip, but a deeper calm settled in its place. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so at ease.

“How are you doing that?”

She blinked. “What?”

“I mean,” Cullen coughed again, taking a long sip of water. “We haven’t talked about your husband yet.”

_Very smooth, Rutherford, nothing awkward about asking her something like that._

“My husband?” she asked, the smile still lingering on her lips. “ _That’s_ what you want to talk about?”

“It is. Unless you’d prefer not to, of course,” he added quickly. “I don’t mean to pry, I just…” He had to know or he was going to burst.

Elysse leaned across the table, a roll dangling from her fingers before she ripped off a piece and popped it in her mouth. “What do you want to know about him?”

“The way you and Myra talk about him—he’s not around anymore, is he.”

A lovesick bitterness lined her laugh. “Not like he used to be, no.”

“How long?”

“Almost a year now.” She popped another piece of bread into her mouth. The longing in her voice made his body ache. “The longer he’s away, the more I start to fear that I’ve lost him forever.”

“But you still love him,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.

“Very much so. Whatever happens between us, I’ll always love him.” She turned away but he caught the quiver in her voice. “I hope he knows that.”

“I’m certain he does, Elysse.” She took one of her hands, his body screaming to pull her against his chest, to rub her back and kiss her forehead, to comfort her until she had no more reason to cry. “He’d have to be a complete and utter moron not to know.”

“You think so?”

Cullen squeezed her fingers tight. He scooted his chair around until the table was no longer between them. He moved in closer still, keeping his other arm stubbornly at his side instead of touching her cheek as he wanted. “Any man able to earn your heart would know better than to waste it.”

Her fingers tightened around his own with her smile. The scent of her soap was stronger this close up: vanilla and jasmine. It drew him in, rich and intoxicating, comfortable in a way that he couldn’t explain. She was looking at him now, green eyes fixed on his face. They darted down to his lips more than once.

“We should, uh.” He blinked a few times, giving his head a slight shake in an attempt to clear it. “We should eat before the stew gets cold.”

She mumbled something that sounded like an agreement and Cullen pried his hand away one finger at a time.

“Tell me what Honnleath is like,” she said after a strained pause. “I’ve never been there myself.”

Cullen chuckled under his breath, warning her that it would be very boring, before continuing at her insistence.

An hour passed. And then another. The bowls had been scraped clean, the rolls gone, the apple split between them. She pulled his childhood stories out of him like a healer would suck poison from a wound. He was laughing by the end, telling her about pigeons and old golems covered in broken gems. Somewhere during a story, Elysse discovered a bottle of wine that had disappeared nearly as quickly as it had been found. Cullen was still snickering over the memory of Branson poking the golem with a stick, expression blown wide with fear, when he caught Elysse’s eye again. She held the final slice of the apple slice between her fingers, the fruit tantalizingly close to her lips. It would be so easy to lean over and steal a kiss. _Steal_ a kiss. No. No, if he was going to kiss her, he needed her to want it as desperately as he did.

“It’s getting late,” he said. “Thank you for listening to me rant. I don’t think I’ve ever talked so long before.”

Elysse smiled and nibbled on the slice enough that a drop of juice squeezed out onto her lips. She lapped it up with her tongue and Cullen found himself watching every movement of her mouth. “I’m sure you haven’t,” she said, “but the night doesn’t have to be over yet.”

Cullen blushed at her boldness as she slid into his lap. She brought the apple to his lips and he took a bite, his eyes never leaving her face. He chewed and swallowed automatically, hardly tasting the fruit as she finished the final piece. She leaned in and one of her arms wrapped around his shoulders. His hand came up to her lower back in response. He almost groaned when she settled in further up his lap. He felt the heat and weight of her body. Felt his skin prickle and tingle as her fingers brushed the back of his neck. _Maker_ , such a small gesture had no right to feel so good.

“W-we shouldn’t.” Cullen’s protest grew weaker with each passing heartbeat. Her lips were plump and red; her breath tickled his skin, and when her tongue ran along her lower lip, he couldn’t hold back his shudder.

“Why not?” her voice carried a low whine that echoed the deep yearning inside his chest.

“Your husband,” he said even as he leaned in until her bangs tickled his forehead. “It’s obvious you still love him. I… I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.”

Her eyes were dark and hooded as she stared at his lips. “I’d regret it more if I didn’t.” Her gaze dragged up his face until their eyes locked. His body shook when her hand curled around the back of his neck. Her lips hovered against his. “ _Kiss me, Cullen_.”

He closed the gap with a groan that shook him to his core. Her lips were sweet and warm as they moved against his, drawing in his lower lip before nipping on the sensitive skin. He shuddered and yanked her close until there was no space left between their bodies. He cupped her cheek. She tugged at his shirt as though he needed more encouragement and moaned freely when his tongue slipped between her parted lips. She trembled beneath his touch. The fingers on his neck shifted up into his hair as her legs wrapped around him, her thighs squeezing his waist in a way that he hadn’t dare dream.

His name left her in a breathless sigh when he trailed his lips down her neck to a spot just below her ear. He bit the skin there before running his tongue over the mark. She hissed and moaned as he knew she would.

As he _knew_ she would.

Cullen pulled away, confusion replacing his desire. How could he have known that? How could he know that she liked her hair to be gripped but not pulled? How could he know that her moans would grow deeper the closer she grew to her release? How could he know that she loved to be held in her sleep and hogged the blankets worse than any mabari?

He ran his thumb along Elysse’s lower lip and shivered when she kissed the skin. He stared at her, at the eyes he did and did not recognize, as though he knew them from an already forgotten dream.

“Why do I know you, Elysse?”


	4. Everything fades

Elysse gripped Cullen’s shoulders, her eyes widening as she studied the confusion in his face. “ _What?_ ”

“Why do I know you?” he asked again. His hand traced down her spine. “You have a scar right here,” he murmured, fingers slipping under her shirt to the roughened skin nearly three inches in length. “How do I know that?”

Elysse shivered at the light scratch of his calloused fingers. She wanted to feel his hands on her again, to be touched and caressed and claimed by him. But her legs begged her to run, to escape the tangle of emotions building in her chest, to curl up and weep until she was numb. “I…”

His hands continued to travel along her back, making her shiver in a way she hadn’t expected. It had been months since he’d held her this way, _months_ since he’d remembered himself long enough to want her again. She hadn’t realized how much she needed his touch until this moment.

“I can’t—” Her words faltered as her stared at her, his gold eyes reflecting the dying light of the candle. The physicians had warned her against telling him the truth. Too much of a shock, they said. But if he was already remembering… 

“You know me because you love me.” Her words wavered and her heart clenched when his expression grew distant.

“ _Love_ you?”

Elysse cupped his cheek, their foreheads almost touching in her desperation to cling onto as much of him as she could. “This is going to sound ridiculous but I need you to answer honestly: what can you remember _before_ this room?”

“I was…” Cullen trailed off, his hands stilling on her skin as his face pulled in with a frown. “I was…” The corners of his eyes twitched, a vein grow prominent in his forehead. His face drew up with a grimace as he gave a loud groan. A hand came up to his face as though he wanted to shield himself. “I was talking to Cassandra. We’d just docked. I told her I wanted to—to _do_ something.”

She stroked his hair as he struggled to piece the words together, nails lightly scratching his scalp in a way that eased the tension building in his shoulders. Her other hand rested on his chest above his heart. “Yes?” she pressed.

“Something about lyrium.”

“Do you remember anything else?” Elysse held her breath as she waited for his answer. Her hold on him tightened and a pang of hope squeezed her heart.

“I wanted to quit taking it. And… and there was the Conclave. I was meant to go up later to keep an eye on the templars, but—” Cullen’s words cut off with a shudder and a muted whimper. Elysse slid from his lap as he pressed both palms against his forehead, eyes clamping shut as he yelled, “Maker, why does it hurt so much?”

She ran for the poultices, fingers shaking as she returned to his side. Slinging one of his arms across her shoulders, she dragged him towards the cot, laying him out before pressing the pouch to his forehead.

“I need lyrium, not a poultice!”

“No, you don’t.”

Cullen clasped her arm, fingers digging hard enough to leave bruises. “I _need_ lyrium.”

She ignored the demand. “You haven’t had lyrium in nearly eight years, Cullen. I won’t let you undo all your hard work now.”

“Eight years?” His grip tightened and this time, she winced. “What do you mean? What’s happened to me?”

“You quit lyrium when you became Commander, but you’d already ingested too much.” She tried to keep her voice straight, tried to keep her mind focused on the work at hard. “About a year ago, your memory began to fade. More time has passed than you know.”

“That’s not—that can’t be!”

Elysse touched his face again, determined to keep her tears at bay as she caressed his cheek, trying to calm him. “You’re thirty seven now, far past your days of being a templar. You’re the Commander of the Inquisition, _my_ Commander, and… and my husband.”

“No. No, that’s not—”

“It’s true. It’s why you know me, Cullen. It’s why you were so comfortable around Myra. It’s why you know my scars, and how I like to be kissed; it’s why you know _everything_ about me.” She took up a nearby water basin, drenching a cloth before wringing it out and placing it across his forehead. “You’re my husband, Cullen, and I love you.”

Cullen shook his head, turning away from her to stare at the ceiling instead. “It can’t be… I’m not—Get away from me!”

“It’s all right, Cullen,” she said even as she stepped away. “You’re safe here.”

“No! It’s a trick! A trap!” He rose from the bed, his knees wobbling as he staggered towards the door. Sweat had drenched the back of his shirt, plastering the fabric against his body. “It’s just a dream. O-or perhaps I’m still at Kinloch. Yes. _That’s_ what you are. That’s what all of this is. I won’t be fooled again, demon!” He began to babble, his voice growing panicked and high-pitched as he crumpled to his knees. His breath left him in a wheeze.

“Cullen!” Elysse knelt at his side, brushing the sweat-drenched hair from his forehead as she pulled him into her lap.

“No,” he said. “No, it’s not—you’re not—you _can’t_ be.”

“Please trust me,” she begged. She screamed for help and pulled him closer to her chest. She used her sleeve to dab at his forehead. His skin burned beneath her hands. He strained and twitched, eyes losing focus as they rolled back into his head. “Cullen. _Cullen!_ ” 

 

* * *

  

Elysse’s leg wouldn’t stop bouncing. She pressed her fingertips to her lips, her stomach clenched in a tight ball as she sat at Cullen’s side. Healers milled around him, murmuring under their breath as they changed out the iced cloths layering his body.

Her fault.

She’d pushed him too far and now—

This was all her fault.

“Vivienne,” she caught the other woman by her sleeve, lips parting in the question she couldn’t bring herself to ask.

“He’ll live, my dear. As for our Commander’s _mind_ , we’ll have to see what he says when he awakens.”

Elysse managed a weak smile as the mage patted her back before taking her leave. Elysse kept to the chair, feet tapping against the floor long after the room had cleared. Her legs trembled when she finally stood, her path unsure as she meandered to Cullen’s side. She took his hand into her own and leaned down, pressing kisses to his fingers.

 “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry, Cullen. I didn’t think…” She sighed, shaking her head. She had no excuse to give.

Releasing him for a brief moment, she shoved the nearby cot against his own and lay down at his side. She studied the sharp lines of his face, the curve of his lips, the dark rings under his eyes like bruises. She kissed the marks and the wrinkles and the scars before pressing their foreheads together. “Please forgive me, my love. I shouldn’t have pushed when you weren’t ready.”

She took his hand again and curled in at his side, tucking her head against his shoulder. And then she waited. She waited through each of his slow breaths. Waited through every groan and wince and shift of his body. Waited until the sun spilled in through the windows and his eyes began to flutter.

Elysse moved apart, tucking her knees up under her chin.

“Cullen?”

His hand ran through his hair as he sat up, his movements choppy and stiff. He let out a deep groan when he rolled his neck and stretched out his arms. When his eyes landed on her, he frowned. “Where am I?”

“The infirmary.”

“Yes, but where? The Knight-Commander will be waiting for me to report in.”

Elysse stiffened. Her fingernails dug into her palms until the skin threatened to break. She took a deep breath, determined to keep the anguish from her voice when she said, “Meredith’s the one who sent you here, actually. You had, uh, a bad batch of lyrium and she wanted you to rest easy before returning to the Gallows.”

Cullen blinked, staring at her a moment longer before he nodded. “I do remember something about lyrium.” He took a deep breath before stretching his arms across his body. She smiled when he moved his arms up, exaggerating his groan of effort as he flexed his muscles, watching her from the corner of his eye even as pink crept up his cheeks.

No matter how much he forgot, some things didn’t change.

“Are you feeling all right, Messere?”

“My head’s pounding, but I think I’ll be fine. And please, call me Cullen, Lady…?”

“Trevelyan. But I’d prefer it if you called me Elysse.”

 

* * *

 

“Why do you continue to do this to yourself?”

Elysse ground her teeth together as she put the finishing touches on Cullen’s lunch, Myra at her side cutting—or rather mashing—up apple slices with a dull knife.

“Because I tried being away from him and it hurt even worse.” Elysse shot Cassandra a pointed stare to end the conversation. “I had him for a moment, Cass. For one wonderful moment, he was mine again. I’m not going to give those moments up. Not yet.” She pursed her lips, recalling the taste of Cullen’s tongue in sharp clarity. She ached to kiss him again, to feel his arms around her, to hear the steady beat of her heart as she drifted off.

“Come on, sweetie,” she muttered to Myra, taking up the tray as she walked through Skyhold to Cullen’s new home.

He sat cross legged on his bed, a small mirror set up on the wall before him. White foam covered his cheeks and neck. Holding a razor in one hand, he stretched his cheek out with the other and brought the blade close. A curse left him along with several drops of blood

“Do you need help?” she asked as she set down her tray.

“My hands won’t stop shaking.” He raised the knife again, letting the edge rest against his skin before he set it down with a sigh. “Help would be appreciated.”

Elysse smiled, telling Myra to eat before she sat down on the edge of Cullen’s bed, taking the knife he offered. “Are you feeling any better?”

“My head’s not as bad as it was before.”

Elysse slid one hand around the back of his neck, muttering an excuse about holding him still as she ran the razor down one side. She wiped the blade clean then took another stroke. His chest rose and fell at a steady pace and when she glanced up, his eyes were fixed on her face. She smiled.

“Admiring the view, Cullen?”

He flushed but didn’t turn away. “You’re very good with your fingers.”

“Oh?” Her smile grew at the way his cheeks darkened.

“N-not that I was thinking about your fingers. I didn’t mean to imply—” He grumbled for a moment and said, “You seem to know your way around a blade is all.”

Elysse chuckled, more than tempted to tease him about handling _his_ blade. He would’ve laughed before pulling her into his lap and pressing a searing kiss to her lips. He would've teased her about it for a week afterwards too, constantly slipping in mentions of swords to their conversations around every Orlesian noble. She relished the image as she finished the right side of Cullen’s face.

“You’ve got a good eye,” she said. “I’ve been handling knives since before Myra was born.”

Cullen’s gaze shifted to the young girl. He smiled at her—a true, warm smile that made his eyes wrinkle and his dimples show. “She’s very lucky to have such a capable mother.”

“Her father’s not so bad, either.” Elysse kept up her smile, unsure whether the desire to laugh or cry was stronger. It always came back to this. It was sweet, in a way. He’d never once flirted with Cassandra or any of the healers.  Never asked after anyone but her. Cullen loved her still. No lack of memory could remove what he felt. But seeing her love reflected in his eyes and never being able to act on it, at least not in the way they'd been before—she sighed and dabbed Cullen’s face clean before setting the cloth and razor aside.

“Oh my, Messere.” She exaggerated her voice and gave him a sly wink. “You didn’t mention you were so handsome beneath all that hair. I do believe I've fallen in love.”

Cullen laughed and turned away, the tips of his ears turning crimson. Myra giggled in the corner.

Elysse stayed with him the rest of the day, working through reports in the corner as Myra showed off her newest doll to the ‘sick man.’ She watched them between letters, wondering if it could work, if Myra could be raised in such a way. Myra smiled now, but what happened when she cried out for her father in the middle of the night, wanting to be cradled by a man who may not even know her name?

Dinner came and went as a pair of guards brought food and fresh candles.

“It’s time to say good night, Myra.”

Cullen went wide-eyed when small arms flung around his neck and Myra pressed a sloppy kiss against his cheek.

“I’ll bring you sweets tomorrow!” Myra promised before skipping into Elysse’s arms.

Cullen rose to his feet, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck as he stared at Elysse. “Thank you for all your kindness.” He gave her an awkward bow, his posture unsure. “I won’t soon forget it.”

“I’m sure you won’t, Cullen. I had the apothecary prepare you a sleeping draught. I know that—” She cleared her throat. “That is, Meredith informed me that you don’t always sleep well. I hope it'll help.”

Cullen took a step forward, a hand outstretched. An unbearable silence passed. A deep yearning grew inside her chest until Myra’s head thunked onto Elysse’s shoulder with a deep yawn.

“I should go,” Elysse said. “Perhaps I’ll see you again, Cullen.”

“I’d like that.”

Her lips twitched in a smile. “Me too.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks as she walked away from him. She kept them silent, her hand rubbing along Myra’s back as the little girl began to snore. Maker damn the first fool who thought lyrium was a good thing to ingest. And Maker damn the Chantry for ordering men and women to addict themselves to such a thing. And Maker damn the Order for tying themselves up to their lyrium leash for so long. And Maker damn her for not making the most of every moment with Cullen when she'd had the chance. 

“Wan… see da…” Myra mumbled as Elysse tucked her in for the night. She stayed only a moment, waiting long enough to watch Myra curl around the stuffed nug Krem had made her before slipping out into the night.

Skyhold lay calm, bathed in the light of the twin moons. She would’ve found it romantic on any other night.

“Cullen?” she asked, opening the infirmary door again, half-wondering if she should move her bed inside. “Are you awake?”

A deep, low snore greeted her words and she laughed. He always did sound like a bear. Sitting at his side, she swept the curls from his face. She paused, her hand hovering above his skin. The mark sparked and sputtered as she watched it. Leaning in, she pressed a kiss to the corner of Cullen’s mouth and laid her palm gently across his forehead. “Dream of me, my love. I’ll be waiting for you in the Fade.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter might be bumped up to an M rating. Just FYI.


	5. Stay with me tonight - NSFW

_Will you—Cullen Ruthered—swear to take Elysse Trevelyan as your second self. To walk with her through darkness and light. To share all you have: your joys and your triumphs, your sorrow and your grief. To be forever at her side in the eyes of the Maker even as you pass beyond the Veil?_

_So do I swear._

_She has your eyes, love._

_And_ your _blonde curls. Boys’ll be fighting for her attention soon enough._

_Hmmph. They can try._

_Cullen, do you know who I am?_

_Should I?_

Cullen jolted up, his heart pounding from his nightmare. He panted in the dark, arms drifting across the bed in search of his wife. He frowned when his hands met only empty sheets.

“Elysse?” He scrambled to his feet, cursing when his toes met something solid. Limping to the wall, he felt blindly along the shelves before he found the candle and matches he sought. Light flared to life, making him wince before his eyes adjusted.

The infirmary? Why in the Maker’s name was he here?

Marching to the door, his scowl deepened when two guards blocked his path.

“Is there something you need, messere?”

“Messere?” Cullen spat back. “Does it look like we’re in the Free Marches?” His eyes narrowed at the man’s face. “I know you. You’re posted on the battlements. What’re you doing here?”

The man stuttered, turning to the woman at his side. “Are you feeling well, Commander?”

“Don’t change the subject,” Cullen said. “Why are you stationed here?”

“The Inquisitor wanted to keep you from— _ow!_ ”

The other soldier glared at him, gave a swift shake of her head then said, “You collapsed earlier, Commander. The Inquisitor wanted to make sure you weren’t alone if something happened.”

“I’m fine now. Return to your duties.” Cullen swept past before they could respond and raked a hand through his hair, scowling at the loose curls his sweat had freed. He plucked at the shirt, wondering where his usual clothes had gone for him to be wearing something so casual and light. Eyes followed him through the main hall despite the heavy scowl he wore. Whispers trailed at his back. Metal clanged on stone when a soldier dropped his sword. If he hadn’t already checked, he would’ve thought he was walking naked through the room.

“Elysse?” he called up the stairs, taking them three at a time. He raised an eyebrow at the new banners decorating the walls. “Elysse, are you awake?”

“Cullen?” The door to her room opened and Elysse stepped out in a blue silk shift that draped down to her calves. Her red hair was a mess around her face and her eyes were puffed from crying. “W-what’re you…?”

Cullen pulled her into his arms, cradling her against his chest as he cupped her cheek. “What’s wrong?”

She let out a strangled laugh before flinging her arms around his shoulders. Her fingers gripped him tighter, face burying into his neck. “Is this real?”

“Of course it’s real. Why wouldn’t it be?” He rubbed her back in slow, steady circles. He tucked her closer, relaxing as the warmth of her body permeated his skin. He felt his fears ebb away as he held her, every tension and worry rolling off his back like rain. He kissed the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her hair as he murmured, “Maker, I had such a terrible nightmare. I woke up thinking—well, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“What did you think?” Elysse pulled apart enough to cup his face within her hands.

“I thought—” He laughed and squeezed her closer, his lips trailing along her forehead. Everything in him wanted to cover her with kisses, to press her close and hear her heartbeat as he slept. “I thought I’d forgotten you and Myra and everything that had happened since I joined the Inquisition.” He kissed her cheeks and wrapped himself around her when she began to shiver. “I thought I’d lost—why are you looking at me like that?”

Cullen used his thumbs to brush the fresh tears from her face. Elysse leaned into the touch with a heavy sigh. “It wasn’t a dream, Cullen.”

“Yes, it was.” The smile slid from his face as her expression grew somber. “You’re not joking, are you? But that means—”

“It does.”

“But you’re… that’s not. _No!_ ”

Elysse drew him closer, leaning up onto the tip of her toes to press their foreheads together. She stroked his hair and the back of his neck with trembling fingers. “It’s all right, Cullen.”

“It can’t be real. That would mean that you and Myra—Oh, Maker. _Myra_.” He started to step away but returned to Elysse’s side. He took her into his arms, holding his wife tight against him. He gripped her harder than he should’ve. He wouldn’t let himself forget her, not again. He rushed into their room, heart in panic.

Elysse continued to rub his neck and shoulders, words soft and calm despite the slight waver in her tone. “She has her own room now, my love. Downstairs.”

Cullen looked back at her. She appeared so calm, so resigned. “How long have you been living with me like this?”

She kissed his cheek. “Almost a year.”

“A year?”

She nodded and pressed another kiss against the corner of his lips. “There’ve been times where you’ve remembered before, just like you are now, but…” She spared a glance to the mark on her hand and sighed. “They never last long.”

“Last time?” he asked, descending the stairs with her still in his arms.

“I had you for five days. I almost thought I had you back for good.” More kisses along his neck. “That was three months ago.”

Cullen paused on the stairs as memories crawled their way into his head. Elysse had wept then too. She’d cradled him to her chest as though he were the Maker given form, all reverent fingers and worshipping lips.

“I’m so sorry, Elysse.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I could’ve done more. Quit sooner.” How much more would the Order take from him before it claimed his life?

“You did what you thought was right, Cullen. There’s _no_ blame to be laid on your shoulders.” Elysse curled up against him, her kisses a near constant. He leaned in closer when she nuzzled against his neck.

She forgave him with such ease, but his heart continued to sink as the past year pieced itself together inside his mind. The first time he’d asked who she was. The heartache that shattered across her face as she struggled not to cry in front of their daughter. The soft gestures of caring for him. The hours when he was himself and in her arms. The sobs as his memory rejected her all over again. The weeks apart. Myra’s return with a stolen treat. The lingering hope that refused to die. It had to change.

“Myra will want to see you,” Elysse said, breaking his thoughts.

“You’re right.” Cullen stared at her a moment, studying the changes in her expression. A deep weariness had settled in her eyes. He caught her in a gentle kiss, the touch of her lips making his spine tingle as he made it down to the landing below. He was still kissing Elysse when he set her on her feet. One arm stayed around her waist. “I… I don’t want to let go of you.”

“I’ll still be here, Cullen.”

“I know _you_ will.”

She smiled and drew him in with another brush of her lips. He pulled her close, molding their bodies together as he slid his tongue into her mouth, earning a long sigh. His fingers slid up to her hair as he deepened their connection, kissing her harder, fingers gripping her hip. She nipped his lip. He pressed her up against the nearest wall. It felt like their first kiss again. That desperate eagerness and war of emotion.

“I love you,” he groaned when he finally drew apart.

Elysse buried her face against his chest but he still felt her grin. “I know you do. Now get in there.” She gave him a light shove towards a closed door, following him the short distance, her fingers lingering on his back until he slid Myra’s bedroom door open.

Clothes, stuffed animals, and sheets of paper littered the room. The small bed had a canopy of pink lace that guarded Myra and her small army of stuffed nugs from the waking world. Cullen’s knees trembled as he sat at her bedside. He kept his touch light as he placed a hand upon her back. When had she gotten so big?

He wrapped one of her curls around his finger, smiling at the blonde colored that matched his own before leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. “Sweetie?”

Myra groaned, her eyes clamping tight as she burrowed herself further into her blankets. Cullen laughed, his hand continuing to rub her back. He watched her sleep. Watched the gentle, constant rise and fall of her chest. She’d born it all so well, taking on burdens that no one her age should have to face.

Laying down beside his daughter, he wrapped his arms around her small frame and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I hope you’ll forgive me one day.” Another kiss and then he stood.

“She’d want to talk to you.”

“I know,” Cullen said. “And Maker willing, I’ll get that chance soon enough, but there’s something else I have to do while I still have my mind.”

Elysse’s eyes widened with panic as he drew her out into the hall. His heart clenched at the fear there. Drawing her up towards the landing where their words would only be heard by the stones, he said, “If I— _when_ I forget again, you have to let me go.”

“ _No._ ”

“It’s going to hurt, Elysse. It’s going to hurt and it’s never going to stop hurting. As the years go by, you’re only going to see me get further and further away from you, from Myra.”

“I know that.”

“Then why—”

“Because it’s worth it, Cullen! Because having a moment with you in my arms again is _worth_ the ache that’s going to follow.” Gripping the front of his shirt, she yanked him down and kissed him hard. Her body trembled beneath his hands when his lips moved in return. His arms wound about her waist. She sighed his name, arching up against his body.

He broke the kiss but couldn’t bring himself to let her go. “I can’t do it. I can’t let you get hurt like this.”

“Don’t I get any say?” Elysse kissed him again, slow and soft with a deep underlying ache behind every touch. It left him shaking. “You are my _husband_ , Cullen. You’ve followed me into battle, shared my bed, raised Myra with me. You loved me when no one else did, saw me as a person when the world tried to make me out as some saint. You’ve always been at my side. Why can’t I be at your side now?”

“It’s not the same.”

“Isn’t it?”

“I won’t know you. I’ll _hurt_ you.” He buried his face within her neck. “Please, Elysse. I can’t bear the thought of causing you more pain.”

“It’s a pain I choose.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

“And if our positions were reversed?” she asked. “If I were the one who was forgetting you, would you be able to walk away?”

“That’s not fair.”

“You can’t ask me to do something you couldn’t do yourself.”

“I can and I am.” Cullen caught her protest in another kiss, cradling her face within his hands. “What if I never remember again, Elysse? What if you spend your whole life waiting for a love I won’t return?”

“Then I’ll wait,” she said. “I’ll wait, Cullen. I’ll wait through all my years. I’ll wait through centuries in the Fade if I have to. You’re worth every moment.”

He held her close, eyes shut. “No one’s worth that much.”

“ _You_ are,” she insisted. Her hands gently tugged at him, pulling him down to her. She wrapped her arms around him, her lips ghosting across his skin. “I missed you.”

Her kiss brimmed with a deep longing. Her lips molded against his, coaxing him to follow as she walked towards their room. Her tongue stole along his bottom lip before slipping into his mouth with a moan of his name. His arms trembled as he pulled her tight. He reached down, taking her thighs into his hands as he hefted her up and wrapped her legs about his waist. Elysse grinned, legs squeezing him as she trailed kisses along his jaw.

They stumbled past the door. Cullen closed it with a kick as he kissed her neck. “I’m so sorry, Elysse.”

“No apologies,” she said. “Not tonight.”

Their lips met, hard and heady. He smiled at the insistent tug of her hands on his shirt. She laughed when they fell onto the bed, her legs astride his hips. She spread her hands across his chest, pulling his shirt up and over his head. He kicked off his boots, barely caring when he heard something break.

They kissed again, slower this time, with sighed moans between each breath as her fingers tangled up into his hair.

She panted softly as she stared into his eyes. “Tell me you love me.”

“I love you, Elysse,” he answered without hesitation. Another kiss. She giggled when his hands worked her slip up over her hips, fingers skimming along her soft skin before he pulled the silk off her body. She wore nothing underneath. He traced her scars with absent fingers, grateful that none were new. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone.”

She smiled and pressed him down onto their bed, shifting down until she straddled his legs. Her fingers teased the laces along the front of his breeches. “Will you be with me tonight, my love?”

“Yes.”

Elysse grinned and pressed a kiss beside his navel, making his skin prickle at the sensation. His body jumped and shivered at her every touch. His eyes fluttered and he couldn’t stop his groan at the slow, agonizing way she undid his trousers. A finger hooked inside the waistband, tugging them down his hips. She caught his smalls on the way, inching the fabric down at pace that made him groan in impatience. She smirked at him before placing a kiss on his hips, trailing her lips down his thigh as she rid him of the last of his clothes.

“I love you too, Cullen.”

He rested his hands on her hips, smiling up at her, drinking in the warmth of her skin, thrilling at the way she nipped at his hip before trailing kisses closer to the apex of thighs. His body shuddered under the ministrations of her sweet tongue. He called out to her, eyes fluttering shut as his heart tore between his enjoyment and his guilt.

Elysse was laughing when she kissed up his body, pausing to lavish each scar with attention. “No apologies,” she reminded him when she kissed his neck. “Just be with me. _Please_ , Cullen. Just be with me tonight.”

He caught her cheek and brought her face up to his. He claimed her in a demanding kiss, a hand pressing at the small of her back. She hummed in response, her hips dropping to rub against him. He moaned freely, his body responding to the welcoming heat she offered.

“I love you,” he all but snarled. Holding her tighter, he flipped them and pressed her down into the bed. Her fingers raked up his back, earning a faint hiss before winding through his curls. She held him tight, legs draping over his hips. He ground himself against her, greedily drinking in her moans as she arched up into his chest. “I _love_ you, Elysse.”

He burned kisses down the side her neck, biting on a sensitive spot. She gasped and trembled as he nipped the skin before soothing over the darkening mark with his tongue.

“Cullen, _please_.” She raised her hips in beckoning, voice lined with desire as she groaned his name in his ear. “I want you so badly. I can barely breathe with how much I want you.”

Another hard kiss and he smiled. He ran a hand up her side before grasping one of her breasts. Rolling the nipple between his fingers brought a low whine.

“Patience, love,” he murmured.

She used a leg to not-so-successfully slap his backside. “Tease.”

Cullen grinned, the next kiss long and languid. He lowered his body until they were pressed together, his weight on a forearm above her head. His free hand shifted down, fingers sliding along her sex. Her hips bucked against the light touch. He ached to be inside her, to feel her heat, to burn the taste of her into his tongue. The very thought made him shudder.

“Say it again.” His face grew hot, hips unable to resist from rutting against the soft skin of her thigh already slick with her desire. “Tell me what you want.”

She groaned and he wasn’t sure if her pleasure or frustration was the cause. “I want _you_ , you Maker-forsaken, Ferelden excuse of—ah!” Her fingers bit into his scalp when he eased inside her. Their kisses grew sloppy between panted breaths and moans released into the other’s neck.

Cullen gathered her close, shifting their weight back as he moved up, resting her in his lap as their hips rolled and ground together. He cupped her face, staring into her eyes. She smiled in return, arms tight and possessive around him.

Elysse rested her forehead to his, all smiles and soft fingers. “Stay with me tonight.”

“It’s almost morning,” he said, their pace slowing. Pleasure simmered inside him, spreading through his veins, threatening to burn him. And still, he kept it slow. He took one of her hands and linked their fingers together. How could he ever have forgotten her? How could he have forgotten what she felt like in his arms? The way her name sounded on her lips? Such a thing didn’t seem possible.

“Then stay with me for as long as you can,” she said. She squeezed his hand, eyes pleading.

He smiled but made no promise.

Words fell way to more lingering kisses and muffled sighs. He cradled his wife against him, savoring every touch and whisper of his name.

 _I’m so sorry, my love_ , he thought as he kissed her neck. Their movements quickened and he reached between their bodies to help bring her to completion. He smiled when her moans deepened. Her breath came out in short pants as she clung to him.

“I love you, C-Cullen. Oh, Maker. Please don’t leave me. Please don’t— _please_ —!”

He kissed her when she succumbed to her pleasure, hitting his own release when her body tightened around him, clinging to him in every possible way. Covering her shivering body with reverent kisses, Cullen eased her down onto the bed, grinning at her sated expression.

“I think you enjoyed that,” he said with a grin. He chuckled weakly when she tugged him down to her side. She curled up against him, fingers wandering over his chest as she pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

“Me?” she asked. “You should’ve seen _your_ face.” She dropped her jaw open, eyes and nose scrunching up before she gave way to laughter.

Cullen swatted her hip playfully. He grinned at the joy in her face, grabbing the sheets to cover them as their bodies began to cool. “I love you,” he said again, pulling her into his arms. “I’ve always loved you, Elysse.”

Her smile was lazy and content. “I know you did. You flirted with me quite a lot, you know.”

“Hmm. That’s not so surprising. Who wouldn’t flirt with the most beautiful woman in the world?”  Elysse nudged him and he laughed. He kissed the top of her head. “You should get some rest.”

She scoffed. “There’ll be time to sleep later. I’m not wasting a single moment with you.”

Cullen rolled his eyes when her last work broke with a yawn and she half-heartedly mumbled, _Still not tired_ even as her head fell against his chest.

Maker, but she could be stubborn.

He hummed as he rubbed her back, waiting patiently through her dying protests on the evils of sleep before she finally gave in with a snore. He lay there for a moment, watching her sleep. Things had to change, one way or the other.

“I love you, Elysse,” he whispered, hoping his words reached her in the Fade. “Whatever else happens, remember that.”

With one last kiss, he slid from her arms and over to her writing desk. His hands trembled as he pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment and quill. He stared at the blank page for a moment, his choices lining up before him. Another light snore drew his attention back to Elysse. He grinned at the disheveled nature of her hair, at the pout of her darkened lips, the way she shifted closer to his pillow in her sleep. His heart clenched at the thought of letting her go. But how could the agony she faced with his current situation be any better?

Cullen took a deep breath and dipped the pen into the inkwell, praying that he’d make the right choice. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are going to be two endings to this story. They'll be labeled clearly so you'll know what you're getting into, and you can choose for yourself which ending you want.


	6. A letter to say goodbye - ANGST ending

Elysse groaned at the light forcing her from her dreams. She rolled over, holding the pillow closer to her chest. She breathed deep and smiled at the scent of musk and elderflowers.

 _Cullen_.

Rubbing the remaining grogginess from her eyes, she propped herself up. The ache in her limbs was a delightful change and she savored the pull and stretch of her muscles, remembering the heat of her husband’s body only a few hours before.

“I think we deserve something special for breakfast, don’t you?” She turned when no reply came. “Cullen?”

A letter rested on the other half of the bed, sealed in a deep red wax that bore the Rutherford crest.

Her heart fell.

“Cullen?” she called again as though his name would magically summon him to her side. With trembling fingers, she took the letter into her hands, turning it over a few times before breaking the seal. A deep breath. Then another. It was fine. Just a note. That’s all it was.

Elysse straightened out the sheet of paper, a hand pressed to her lips.

 

* * *

 

 Forgive me.

You were right before. If I were in your place, and you in mine, I would fight all the armies of Thedas to keep you at my side. I would suffer any pain, endure any hardship to be able to hold you at the end of the day. And I know you would do the same for me. And that, my love, is exactly why I will no longer be with you.

I can’t be the cause of your grief. I can’t be the reason why you cry yourself to sleep at night even as I lay within reach. It’s not fair to you, and it’s not fair to Myra. You deserve so much more than I can give you. You always have. You deserve to be loved and held and cherished and cared for. You deserve a man who will be able to comfort you, who will be able to chase your nightmares away, who can give you a full and happy life. I want to be him. I would give my life’s blood to be that man for you. But the damage has already been done, and neither of us can change it now.

Know that I will always love you. You gave me hope when there was none. You loved and accepted me, broken as I was. You mean everything to me, Elysse. Skyhold could crumble, Thedas could fall, the Black City itself could turn to ash and I wouldn’t care so long as you were all right. I wish I had better words to tell you how much I’ve loved you all these years. How much I’ll continue to love you. I know this letter is a poor excuse. I know this is going to cause you pain and it kills me to do but, but I can’t risk you stopping me. I have to do this while my mind is still my own. Don’t look for me, my love, you won’t see me again; I’ll make certain of that before my memory fades.

I leave all that I have to you and Myra. Keep or destroy what you will. Everything is yours now.

I love you, Elysse. I pray that one day, this will be just another memory. As I can no longer be at your side, I beg you to fill your life with the love of others. And I beg you to let yourself be loved in return. I love you. To the end of my days and beyond, I will love you.

_I love you._

Goodbye. 


	7. A letter to remember - FLUFF ending

Elysse sat on their bed, hands gripping Cullen’s journal until her fingers ached. She watched her husband as he blinked in the early morning light, waiting for him to look at her with baited breath. He frowned, the lines around his eyes deepening in confusion.

His cheeks flushed as he looked down at himself—naked with nothing but a sheet to protect his modesty—then to her, dressed in a silk shift stretched over her swollen belly.

“U-um…” Cullen cleared his throat, pulling the sheet further up his body. “Good morning?”

Elysse smiled, resisting the urge to tuck a silver-streaked curl of hair behind his ear.

“This is for you,” she said, holding the book out to him. “I’d suggest flipping through to the end.”

He hesitated a moment, settling on the bed, sitting cross-legged as he took the journal. Papers shifted haphazardly as he let it fall open. “This is _my_ handwriting.”

“It is.”

“I think I would’ve remembered writing a book.”

“Just read it, Cullen.” She swatted his arm.

He frowned but didn’t shun away from the gesture. Muttering to himself under his breath, his eyes scanned over the first few pages—dark and worn around the edges from being touched so often. “This is… this is real?”

“Just keep reading.” Elysse settled in closer, her hand resting a few inches away from his arm. She sat and waited and watched. It was never exactly the same. At first, he rejected the idea whenever he woke. But as time passed, it’d become a ritual between them. Even on the days he remembered, he’d read through the old thing, reminiscing with her as she laid her head in his lap.

She smiled, admiring her husband from a distance as he began to turn through the book at a rate that threatened to tear the pages clean out. His fingers stilled near the end. He brought the journal closer to his face, eyes seem to pause at each word. At last, he looked up.

“Elysse?”

“That’s me.”

Cullen glanced down to the book before returning to stare at her. “Elysse _Rutherford_.”

“That’s right.”

He brought a hesitant hand up to her face before cupping her cheek. She leaned into his touch, smiling when he shifted closer on the bed. He licked his lips. His eyes dipped down and his free arm wrapped around her waist. She ran her fingers through his hair, grinning at the slight shudder of his spine.

“Can I—” he hesitated a moment, his bashfulness contrasting adorably with the grizzled look his grey hair had brought. “May I kiss you?”

“Please.”

Cullen’s lips jerked up in a smile before he closed the distance between them, with a soft sigh, pulling her up against him as she melted into his embrace. It lasted only a moment before he pulled away. He studied her face before a grin broke out over his features and he claimed her in a second kiss.

* * *

 

I know that you’re scared. Even reading all of this, you still have doubts. Is it a trick? How can this be real? You knew that lyrium might do this to your mind, Cullen. There are moments where you still remember, moments where you can recall everything. This book might summarize what you’ve missed through the years, but what’s important is that woman sitting next to you. Hair like fire, beautiful eyes. Her name’s Elysse and she’s your wife, you lucky bastard. If that weren’t enough, she’s also the mother of your children. Plural. She’s pregnant now with your third and I don’t want to wake up one day and realize that I was an ass to my own wife when she needed me. Treat her well.

The young woman with bright blonde curls and brushes stuck in her hair is Myra, your eldest. Next is Andrew—a plump little thing with red hair and redder cheeks. You haven’t decided on a name for the third yet.

If you’re still reading this, there are two rules you need to live by.

Rule one: believe whatever Elysse tells you. I don’t care if she says the sky is orange and there’s only one moon in the sky. Believe her. She hasn’t lied to you yet.

Rule two: love her. This is the easy part. You love Elysse more than you’ve ever loved anyone else in your life. I know you feel a stirring in your chest when you look at her, something that you can’t explain—a sensation that entices and scares you all at the same time. Don’t run away from it. Embrace her. _Kiss_ her, Cullen. If you’re not madly in love with her all over again before your lips part, then walk away. But I promise you that won’t happen.

Now stop reading this and kiss your wife. She’s waiting for you. 


End file.
